


The Weave of the World

by kesomon



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Introspection, Magic is Real, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesomon/pseuds/kesomon
Summary: This is the wisdom the Eye safeguards: Magic, true Magic, is real.Remember that.(A bit of introspection on each Horsemen and their talents, from the man who recruited them all.)





	The Weave of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This is STILL not the story I wanted to write about Doctor Strange-style magic being used by the Horsemen, but it's closer than the last!
> 
> Henley is included because I headcanon she only left the Horsemen, not the Eye itself. This is a worldwide organisation, maybe she needed a different skills-mentor than Dylan could provide, so he sent her in the direction of that person.
> 
> In order of skills:  
> Daniel - reality-warping in the real world, instead of a different plane like the mirror dimension.  
> Jack - spellcasting and conjouring  
> Merritt - astral projection  
> Henley - able to enter/exit the mirror dimension naturally  
> Lula - affinity to magical artefacts
> 
> And Dylan - master-level sorcerer, or near-enough, who can do all the above, but not to the specific-talent-level of each his students and it makes him _so damn proud of them._
> 
> Thank you to Mistrel-Fox on Tumblr, for without enthusing with me about this movie and my last fic, this probably would've languished for weeks in my WIP folder.

This is the wisdom the Eye safeguards: Magic, true Magic, is real. Remember that.

 

Many magicians dream to become the best. Only the determined become so. And those that are truly great magicians? They are the ones who learn to tap the potential around them.

( _The Sanctums may hold the cornerstones of the world together but the Eye is all-seeing. Agamotto was the first, weaving the fabric of time like cloth through fingers. A fabric that blankets the globe, snares showmen and slights, conjurers and mentalists and illusionists alike. Not all who join the Eye are magic, but all who are Magic, in time, will join the Eye.)_

 

There is a boy whose words skip and skitter like a rabbit’s paws, rapid and misdirecting. His ego is vast but his drive to succeed is vaster still. He shapes reality around him to his own liking, morphing form and matter until up is down.

_Atlas calls himself so because he holds the world in his hands. Staring down Agent Rhodes over the cold grey of the interrogation table, he knows he has the upper hand. It’s a simple thing to warp reality; a tug of his sleeves, the curl of a hand, and the handcuffs are suddenly on Rhode’s wrists. Agent Dray rattles her soda, unopened; the key pours out into a sticky puddle, shifted from Rhode’s jacket pocket. Atlas smirks._

 

There is a boy whose fingers flick cards faster than the eye, charming friend and foe alike. He is young but full of flame; it dances at his fingertips, sparks gold among his irises as he flicks his wrists, casting spellfire like flash paper.

_Jack scoops the radio from the floor, mirroring Agent Rhode’s voice until he can relay fake details in the other man’s cadence. It buys him time, but Rhodes is back on his feet, dodging punches and evading Jack’s strikes. Jack’s hands find the papers he’s meant to burn; all it takes is a spark of gold, and the papers ignite. He throws spellfire in Rhode’s face and runs._

 

There is a man who struggles to find his place, to escape a past that left nothing but psychic scars. He projects his will to tease the secrets from the mind, weaving words to ensnare the soul and pluck the truth from the astral plane.

_His brother might be the better mentalist, but there are none faster at the pull than Merritt. All it takes is a touch and Merritt has a blank slate to mold. It’s not hard to manipulate the subconcious when the conscious is seperated from the body. He plants the seeds and pulls them back, none the worse for wear. He salutes as the dropline pulls them all to safety, while Agent Rhodes is dogpiled by an enthusiasic ‘team’ of footballers._

 

There is a girl who strives to rise above all, to be seen in her own glory and no one else. She waves a hand and walks through shadows, splits the world around her to dance on its fragments.

_Henley gestures and the surface of the world shatters like glass. They leap, all three of them together, into the unknown; another gesture, and the world reforms. Their leap ends safe on another rooftop. They race across the tarpaper, free as songbirds. The agents are chasing reflections._

 

There is a girl who is blunt and loud, masking fears and doubts with humor and horror. If her props whisper stories, none hear them but she. She cuts and bleeds and burns and laughs, unharmed, because she is beloved.

 _She pulled a hat out of a rabbit once and they never let her forget it. Maybe it was the shock value. Not of fake gore and viscera (the rabbit was_ fine,  _seriously guys) but because of the novelty of it. Lula still has the hat, and it’s very fetching on her head as they stare down the gun of an FBI agent on the streets of New York. But when the hat chooses of its own accord to flip free of her head and swallow a man whole -- that’s not something you forget either._

 

There is a man who watches them all. He has mastered reality, shaped the shadows and stepped in reflections, harnessed the spellfire that lights their eyes. He knows their hearts and minds and souls for he was once as they are. He cloaks himself in masks and mysteries, and watches them all, heart beating fast as they take their step into history as Horsemen.

_“Explain it again, one more time?”_

_He looks out upon his students, wide eyed and wondering every one of them, from Daniel’s intense focus, to Jack’s eager grin; to Merritt’s calculating stare, Henley’s self-satisfied joy, and Lula’s excited fidgeting. The showman, the sleight, the mentalist, the escapist and the illusionist._

_He is so damn proud of all of them._

_Dylan smiles and gestures a hand, conjuring words that flow across dusty library blackboards. “This is the wisdom the Eye safeguards: Magic, true Magic, is real.”_

Remember that.


End file.
